


Call Me Maybe

by orchidbreezefc



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Awkwardness, Dirty Talk, Established Relationship, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Masturbation, Phone Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-14
Updated: 2013-01-14
Packaged: 2017-11-25 13:23:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,917
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/639339
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orchidbreezefc/pseuds/orchidbreezefc
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Karkat and Dave are online boyfriends, and live an unmanageable distance from each other. There's only one thing for it: phone sex.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Call Me Maybe

**Author's Note:**

> referring to each other by their usernames because really do you refer to any of your online friends by their irl names i know i don't  
> title and concept by the incomparable mochironnai

Your name is Karkat Vantas, and at the moment you feel a little ridiculous, sitting here turning over your iPhone in your hands. You’re nervous about this call, you can admit that. Not because you’ve never talked to Turntechgodhead, your boyfriend of some nebulous amount of internet time, in a phone call before, but because this phone call will be the big one. The internet relationship milestone. You two have decided that tonight, you will have phone sex, which may count as a loss of your virginity, but you’re not sure.

Calling him is usually so easy, and your favourite kind of interaction, though considerably more cumbersome than chats, because the first time you had called him was what really sealed the deal for your relationship. You had flirted before, without much conviction, but then came that video call with his voice and his face in action and you were lost.

Tech had been doing his best not to sound self-conscious, but he did this telltale move where he rubbed the back of his neck and basically looked like the fucking picture of teenage nervousness. The lack of composure leaked into his speech so that he babbled worse than usual (quite a feat, in fact), going on about the importance of--ankle support, you think. Through the venue of a lengthy and more than a little vulgar epic simile. Finally the need to put him out of his misery outweighed your chronic lack of balls, and you’d said, “Shut up, just shut up. ...It’s good to talk to you like this, all right? Your voice isn’t as obnoxious as I expected.”

His mouth had kind of parted in a comical o shape and he blushed like a motherfucker, which was the moment you realised the poker face he likes to brag about is a big ol’ crock of shit. Saying the rest is history would be a betrayal of just how clumsily you two fell ass-first into a relationship, and of exactly how many times Tech used the phrase ‘no homo’.

Still here you are, official boyfriends, and you’re sitting here fiddling with your phone like a chump. The two of you had talked this over for a long time, in embarrassed and vague snatches of conversation here and there, because both of you are award-winningly shit at talking about feelings. Doing it over chat first had been suggested, but as stuttery and awkward silencey as this may get, you don’t want to forgo Tech’s voice like that if you have the choice.

You’d volunteered to call first, because you think maybe if you call using Skype it charges less on his minutes? Also that he had to take a piss and you did not. He’s probably back by now, though, so you’re sitting here achingly aware of the time you are wasting. You punch in the number as you psych yourself up.

Okay, fine. You focus on the act itself and you touch the little green phone symbol. You put the phone on speaker and allow yourself as many ragged, panicky breaths as you can get in before he picks up--exactly three full rings, like always. You suspect Tech waits by the phone and counts the time before picking up, just to seem aloof. What an idiot.

“Hey, Carci,” he says, and you force your breathing to even out.

“Hi, Tech,” you say.

“So, we’re doing this.”

“We are in fact making it happen.”

“The phone sex.”

You nod, then remember he can’t see you (why oh why was his laptop in for repairs? You much prefer video calls), so you say “yes” again.

“Cool. That is fucking super. Superer than a graduate of Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters, that’s how fucking super that is.”

You are too nervous to do your boyfriendly duty and tell him to shut the fuck up, so you just say “yeah”.

“Yeah.”

There is silence. You can feel the precious minutes of his phone plan falling away. You have to do something. “So, sh--should I start, or--?”

“No, no, I will,” he says hurriedly. “I want to be the... shit. Well, I want to fuck you,” is how he begins, and his voice shakes like the first time you ever spoke. That sentence alone gets to you, but you don’t want him to think you’re easy, so you focus on the negative: “I fucking know that, assbrain, that’s why we’re doing this.”

“Shut up,” says Tech, “that’s not what I meant, all right? No, I like--I want to meet you, and then take you home from the airport and then I”--he takes a deep breath and says the next part rapid-fire--”I want to tear your clothes off and put my mouth on--”

“Okay, slow the fuck down,” you say, trying for that even, stoic voice you practiced in the mirror. “I’m gonna need more specifics than that to get off, you shitstain.”

“Please elaborate, Mr. Strider,” Tech mocks in a high, strict voice. “Your essay wasn’t descriptive enough.”

“I will hang up on you,” you warn.

“Jesus, fine.” He pauses in thought, and you know from countless Skypes that he’s chewing his lip, trying to get his ideas in order. “Maybe I wouldn’t take you home from the airport,” he finally muses, trying again. “Might not wait that long. Might get you up in our own little cranny all out of the way, by a gate nobody’s docking at. They have little crannies like that at airports, right? It’d be close in there, real close, and I’d push you up against the wall, all smooth as fuck with one hand above you, y’know? You’d be able to feel my heat and shit.”

There is a moment of pause and a sound, unidentifiable and distorted, from Tech’s end. “I’m unzipping my pants,” he announces.

Are you supposed to liveblog your pants status during phone sex? You don’t know.

“Oh, I already did that,” you lie to one-up him, grateful for the silence of your sweatpants as you wriggle out of them.You stroke down the front of your underwear with your palm to signify to your dick to pay attention. It does as he continues:

“Then I’ll get my thigh between your legs and lean in and kiss you, just once. Then I’ll, uh--shit, I’ll--I’ll suck your bottom lip and with the hand that’s not above--supporting me, you know, I’ll trace up your ribs and start playing with your nipple.”

You realise that you could actually play with your own nipple as he talks about it. Does everyone do that during phone sex? You doubt it. You bet they just beat off like chumps and you are a certifiable sex genius for figuring out this two-pronged approach.

“Then I’ll kiss you again, get my tongue all up in your mouth and take away that support hand, lean against you instead. Then I will grab. your. ass.”

You wonder if you need to interrupt to inform him that you have started massaging your dick more regularly, and if he can hear your soft panting to come to the same conclusion. You wonder if his rhythmic speaking has anything to do with him doing the same, or if he’s just getting into the dirty talk groove. Tech’s voice is low and smooth, for him anyway. It kind of sounds like his rap, only the words are less terrible.

“When I break for air,” he continues, “I’m going to go to your neck and start sucking so you get a hickey, and everybody we pass on the way home will know that you are all fucking mine. Oh man, you’ll be getting so fucking hard for me.”

“I _am_ getting hard for you, douchepot,” you grumble, and he says a rather surprised but definitely sincere “fuck yes.”

“So--” he seems like he’s getting his bearings a bit, but it doesn’t take as long this time. “So then I’m going to pull you in and grind up against your ass so you can feel it--my dick, I mean--up against your asshole, and you’ll fucking love it, you’ll want me in you so bad--”

“Wait, wait, hold up,” you interrupt. Tech verbally skids to a halt. “You’re not going to top me.”

“Uh, yes I fucking am. You’re like half my size.”

“Half your--how tall are you?”

“Five ten.”

“I’m five two,” you say, before it occurs to you to lie and say you’re taller. Oh well, you burned that bridge. “That is nowhere near half.”

“That’s still tiny and you’re still uke as shit. I’m putting my dick in you.”

“No, fuck that.” You hear him inhale to argue again, so you speak quickly without thinking much of the poetry of it. “I push off from the wall and flip us around so you’re pressed against it,” you say all in a rush.

You hear Tech inhale sharply, like you had really done it and caught him off guard. You like that. You like it a lot.

Nerves are making a concerted effort to wipe your mind blank, so you summon the power of your erection and continue through the fantasy you’ve jacked off to a hundred times. “I lean in and lick up your neck, nice and goddamned slow, and then I bite down hard.”

“Ow, fuck, you crazy bastard,” he says, veering off the scripted line (which was just ‘Oh, Carci’).

“Shut up you little bitch, it’s my turn,” you snap, and then you realise exactly where the fuck that came from. Oh, so you’re going to. _Oh_.

You expect Tech to be mouthy as ever, but to your surprise, he takes your sharp tone into consideration and clams up. You huff in approval, trying to sound more authoritative than surprised.

“And then I--fuck, I--reach down between your legs and cup you through your dumbass skinny jeans.”

“Oh, fuck yes,” says Tech, who seems to be done complaining for now and back to enjoying himself.

Now you have to remove your hand and grip the sides of your chair instead if you want to keep your voice even. You are getting more and more anxious as this goes on, but you remind yourself that he can’t see you. He can’t see you. All you have to do is keep your voice steady and he will never know how nervous you are. “Yes, _sir_.”

There’s a pause. “Carci, there is no way in hell I am going to call you sir.”

You use your anger in your voice. “I press you closer against the wall and get up in your _douchey fucking face_ so you can feel my fucking breath. Yes. SIR.”

There is another pause. “Yes, sir,” Tech finally mutters.

You disable your sound feed for a moment and make a sort of incredulous, wheezy laugh. You can’t believe this is actually working. The most argumentative, stubborn fuck in the world is--well, he’s _subbing_ for you. The anxiety’s still there, but you feel a rush of power and confidence. You switch the mic back on.

“I unzip your pants and drop them around your ankles, and I trace your big prick through your underwear.” Dave just groans, and this is more like what you wanted. Still, the reality of him moaning for you is so arresting, so different from your imagination. It makes your cock absolutely ache, so you return to giving it attention as you continue, hoping it won’t throw off your voice.

“I reach into your underwear and pet your dick as I pass it, then stroke your balls.” He makes another noise, amazingly shameless. You are blushing so hard you are amazed that between your boner and your face, your blood is providing your body oxygen. “I go back up and rub my thumb over the slit, then stroke all the way down into the pubic hair at your base--”

“I shave, sir.”

You blink. You blink again. “You _what_?”

“Never fucking mind, keep going, I was just saying--”

“You shave your pubes? Dude I’m pretty sure that shit’s there to protect against, like, fucking bacterial infections--”

“Oh my god just jerk me off you wad--”

Okay, this has gotten out of hand. “Who’s giving the instructions here?!” you say, doing your best to snarl. You’re not actually sure how to snarl because it’s always described as going with curling your lip and, like, how do you even do that, but you try your best. It seems to work well enough though, because Tech says, sounding perhaps a bit reluctant, “Yes, sir, won’t happen again.”

You roll your eyes and run a hand through your hair, working out where you left off. “I draw my finger up your frenum”--Tech makes a confused noise, so you explain exasperatedly, “the thing on the bottom like the thing under your tongue.” (“Oh. Oh, fuuuck.”) “I trace around your foreskin and wipe the pre-cum over your head.”

“Carci,” he breathes, voice crammed with pleasure. God, it goes straight to your cock. You are actually doing this, you are having almost sex with your boyfriend and he is _loving_ it. You have never felt this confident in yourself in your entire life.

“I push you back against the wall and bite your neck again as I wrap my hand around your dick and rub, hard,” you continue, experimenting with a lower voice, which seems to be an instant hit because the noise Tech makes makes you realise what your novels always meant when they referred to ‘humiliating’ noises, because that sure as fuck is one. You don’t think you have ever been this turned on.

“I reach down and play at your asshole.” Tech takes a breath that definitely sounds like the precedent to a complaint, but whatever it was he bites it back. You can practically hear him nod as he says hurriedly, “Yeah, I lean into it.”

“I get one finger in and rub it in and out, then add another.” His voice is somewhat ragged, and you realise he may actually have a finger or two inside himself now. You feel lightheaded, which is certainly not helped by the way he says “Oh, Carci, I’m gonna come if you do that...”

You turn off the mic with your spare hand for a moment, to take a deep breath. You switch it back on and say, low as you can without sounding ridiculous, “Now stop touching yourself, because I stop touching you.” Tech makes an indignant noise, and then a whine, but he does not argue.

“I’ll get you off, but you need to do something for me.”

“Yes, sir, anything,” he gasps, his voice shaking apart. You close your eyes and imagine him in front of you, knees given out and using the wall for support, pupils blown and dick flushed.

“On your knees.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Blow me.”

“Yeah, yeah okay, I unzip your pants, fuck I want you so bad I lick your goddamned underwear. You can feel the heat and shit, maybe the, uhm, the moisture. Never mind, this is bullshit, I get those dumb fucking boxers out of the way”--you wear briefs, but you don’t feel like interrupting, since you’ve divested yourself of yours already anyway--“and I just, I straight-up kiss your cock.”

You turn your mic off so you can groan without wrecking your authoritative dominating air. This would never work in real life. Still, you keep rubbing, imagining his hot, wet mouth instead--

“I watch my teeth like a good boy, I pinch my fucking hand so I can take as much of you as I can, I just--fuck, Carci, I just want to make you feel so _good_.”

You groan and--oh. Fuck. You just came. God dammit, that was quick, you can’t tell him-- _fuck_. You put the mic back on and let him hear your panting and you wait, not listening to the words he’s saying, until you judge it’s been a respectable amount of time for your endurance, and then you. Fuck, there’s no way around it. You fake an orgasm noise.

“ _Yes_ ,” Tech says, and you just about die of relief. “Now can I--?”

“Ask nice,” you reprimand, trying to keep your voice from shaking.

“Please get me off, sir.”

You have the feeling you should probably be working him harder than this, but you don’t care. “Yeah, sure, I, uh, I stroke down your chest and curl my hand around your shaft,” you say, which sounds pretty lame even to you. Tech sounds like he would have sincere difficulty giving less of a shit.

You are completely out of description juice. You just sit and listen. You figure ‘louder’ is an acceptable order, so you say that, and he acquiesces immediately. He is downright panting. Wow, maybe you should have let him get off first, this is hot as hell.

“Come on, come for me,” you think out loud, and Tech just about cries out, he’s so eager to comply. You blush like a schoolgirl and listen to the noise he makes when he climaxes.

There is silence, but for Tech panting and gasping his way down.

“...Didn’t know you were a dom,” he says, finally.

“Didn’t know you would sub like a bitch,” you counter, hoping he can’t sense your embarrassment.

“If you tell anyone, you fucking die.” But when you make a kissing noise into the microphone, he makes one back.

**Author's Note:**

> man what a couple of virgins


End file.
